


Seven Years Later

by itsaquinnquinnsituation



Series: X Years Later [2]
Category: Newcastle (2008)
Genre: Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 20:22:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2081865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsaquinnquinnsituation/pseuds/itsaquinnquinnsituation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what the title implies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Years Later

**Author's Note:**

> None of the characters or the plot of the original movie belong to me. I am not making money off my work, which is written for entertainment purposes only. This is one of the several bits I will have as "X years later."
> 
> This is my universe and exactly how I see it. Writing should be enjoyed, not judged.
> 
> This story just wrote itself and I had no part in planning it.
> 
> I highly recommend everyone to watch this movie.

“... and then when we were returning, he was still drunk and still insisted on driving, of course, well, and the road was so bumpy that I guess he got motion sickness and threw up all over the wheel and Nathan was like… oh shit!”

“And then… what?”

“No, no, look! Is that your car?”

“What?” – Andy finally follows Jesse’s stare, - “Oh. Yeah, that’s Fergus.”

“Shit!”

Andy turns to him again:

“What?”

“Well, I am not packed!”

It finally dawns on Andy:

“Damn…and my stuff’s in the…!”

“Can you handle him?” 

Jesse looks back to the road behind the sandy beach again and observes Fergus pointedly proceeding towards them.

“I’m gonna bring you your stuff! Which bag is yours? The red one?”

“Fuck! I totally forgot the… yeah, the red one… Jesse, I…”

“I’ll be quick! Handle him! I’ll be one moment!”

And Andy just watches Jesse dash off towards their surfing hub a mile away. Then he turns back to look at Fergus. And he just waits for it.

“Where’s he??” – Fergus, in his white shirt, black tie, black slacks and shiny black shoes looks decidedly out of place on the beach. He comes up to Andy without a greeting and his tightly pressed lips give away his mood clearly enough for Andy not to even try to mess with it. 

“Packing… we… uh… kinda lost track of time…”

“I saw you guys were just here standing around yapping!”

“I was… the… uhm” – Andy finally just lifts up his hands. 

“Okay, I left work early because of this! What the hell?”

“He’ll be one moment.”

“Can we just go? You know, we will get stuck in traffic if we don’t leave in five! Can he not go with Nathan?”

“Nate’s already got five… plus the stuff…”

“Fuck!” – Fergus places his hand on the back of his neck and rubs violently. It’s one of those weeks at work, when his shirt collars have blood stains on them.

Andy doesn’t say anything. Andy knows what to do by now. He knows that remaining silent is the best strategy. 

When Jesse finally arrives with their bags, and hands Andy his, Andy doesn’t even ask if he had found his sunglasses on the bench just outside the hub. Fergus nods at Jesse, clenches his teeth, and leads them to the car. 

It’s a black Audi, just as slick as Fergus’ attire, it’s spotless with that brand new car smell, just a bit tinted with the smell of Fergus’ cologne, which is natural, given that Fergus has owned it for almost a year. 

Jesse places the bags carefully into the back seat before climbing in himself. Fergus just watches him, unblinking. Andy, having placed his own bag onto the seat from the other side, is about to walk around to the front passenger seat, when Fergus stops him:

“Again?”

“Huh?” – Andy immediately turns around with that innocent surprise written all over his face.

“Where are your shoes?”

“I… didn’t bring them…”

“You’re leaving sand in my car! God, Andy, how many times do I have to…” – Fergus jerks his hand to his neck again and digs his fingers in so forcefully that Andy winces and makes a tiny motion to turn away. He whispers:

“I forgot, I’m sorry.”

Jesse just observes the whole scene in silence. 

They finally all get in the car and get out onto the main road. As Fergus predicted, they get horrendous traffic.

They sit in silence, just listening to the radio. Fergus keeps changing the stations until finally giving up and shoving his own cd into the player and it’s one of Moby’s soft electronics and he finally gives out a long rugged breath. 

It’s like this always. The thing is, Fergus works over sixty hours a week. They can do that to him because he’s on a salary and they know he wants a promotion. He’ll get a promotion of course, but it’s a matter of principle. To show that he really deserved it. To get the project finished in time. And finished perfectly. Fergus is a big fan of that. That’s why sand in his car is a problem. 

But it’s different for the other lads, of course. Jesse and Andy, and Nate and Luke and the rest of the lot of them, beach boys who work as surfing instructors (Andy and Luke) fast food restaurant servers (Jesse and Nate) or just knock around bumming smokes off tourists and such (that’d be Scotty and Nick and whoever else they’ve got in their crowd at the moment). They spend their time on the beach, wearing nothing but swim trunks, enjoying the sun and the ocean. They have the luxury of those naturally gorgeous looks. Of getting paid for sipping soda and chatting. And Andy can easily get away with his pathological aversion to footwear.

They have no ambitions. Andy has never had any and Jesse had lost what he had after he lost that surfing competition for the third time. So granted, he held onto his high hopes for a little while at least. But he relaxed remarkably after he gave up. Fergus, on the other hand, has turned into a career shark. He landed a prestigious job right out of college and suddenly, the pressure was on. He likes it, the job and the challenge, but it gets to him, sometimes… The times that Andy bites his lip trying to get blood stains off Fergus’ collars.

Andy is a weird creature. When it comes to Jesse and Nate, it’s simple. There are things they are good at – like surfing and selling and weaseling their way out of problems with the police – and there are things they suck at simply because they don’t have the brains for them. What? Neither of the two has ever gone to college, and let’s face it, it’s very obvious in their spelling and the paucity of conversation topics. But Andy is a whole different story.

Andy is intelligent – just like Fergus, he is sophisticated and well-rounded – almost amazingly so because, although he has only had 2 years of college education, there are several things he understands on a nearly expert level. His knowledge of physics could probably win him a Nobel prize one day if he ever cared to apply it. But unlike Fergus, he is surprisingly bad at many routine activities. It’s like – he really can’t do things that bore him. Like sweeping the floor. Like dusting. Like sorting through and getting rid of old junk. Like answering emails and returning phone calls. But not dishes or laundry – surprisingly, he likes both, so both are always done and very well so. Those are the things that make Fergus sigh out “well, at least…” when he comes home at night. 

And then, there are the bills. Oh, Andy does make enough money to pay them. He just can’t remember to do it on time. He can make a note on their kitchen calendar and look at it every single morning while he eats, and he will still forget to do it. Always. So he simply gives the cash his surfing students pay him in, to Fergus to deposit into their joint account and then pay all of their bills. They had already joined nearly all of their accounts, but there’s always something, almost every month that makes Fergus go like: “Whaaat??” and Andy to shrug his shoulders with an apologetic smile. Finances bore him and he hates them. And he knows that he is making Fergus deal with this on top of all of his work. But there’s nothing he can do about it. Maybe he hopes that handling Fergus’ shirts would somehow make up for the situation. 

They still manage to get to the camp before Nate and his folks (surprise, surprise, Fergus screeches as he (who else?) deals with validating their camp site rental and bothers to acquire shower tokens for the whole crowd). He finally parks his Audi in a designated spot, steps outside and stretches.

It’s already dark and it’s a Friday night and spending it in a tent is not on top of Fergus’ wish list. Or to be more precise, he hates even the thought of it. But Jesse does this stuff at least once every summer. He’d found this camp back in ’09, so quite awhile ago, really, back when for Fergus, there was the thrill of going there with “the cool guys” (when they were still “the cool guys” for him, not “Jesse’s loser friends” that they are now) and with Andy; then, as the years passed, it became more of a “going with Andy” until finally turning into what it is now – “dragging along because without him they do not have enough cars to transport the whole crowd and their stuff” and well… because Andy is going and Andy is, after all…

What is Andy, really? They say, love fades after two years. Well, they passed that milestone, laughing. But now? Seven years is the mark beyond which the friendship will last a lifetime. They’ve known each other for seven years, exactly. Seven years since Fergus’ family moved to the Newcastle beach and Jesse (and eventually Fergus) met the whole crowd. Is this another one of those times where Fergus should really think whether this thing is actually working?

“It’s fucking cold” – He mumbles watching Andy swiftly set up their tent. Even Jesse is watching him – Andy’s that quick and skillful.

“You could make some tea… there’s that…oh” – Andy’s whole body freezes and Fergus notices Jesse freeze as well.

“What?” – But he knows the answer already. He knows Andy *that well*.

“I…” – It’s hard but damn, Fergus’s gonna make him say it. Just to make him say it, just ‘cause he can, - “I… may have… forgotten the… the gas cooker.”

And there’s that. How? The thing is, they are so different, you see. Andy and Jesse won’t forget the booze but they can forget the gas cooker. Betcha they didn’t forget the surfing boards and swim trunks now, did they? 

“What am I doing here?” – Fergus hisses, walking away from them towards the open field. 

He stops, pauses, then sits down, raising his head to look at the stars. He sits like that for awhile, not thinking. And then, suddenly, he remembers that one night, the night he knew he had it head-over-heels for Andy and that it was there to stay; and, slowly, he smiles. They didn’t have all those issues back then. It was just Andy with his fascinating brain, sweet disposition, limitless imagination and that special way with caressing touches that transcended all boundaries and reservations. He never did change now, did he? It’s that Fergus didn’t realize this other side to Andy… that made him who he is. But then again, since that very day on that hill with the stars and their little “experience”, Andy has been by his side invariably, through Fergus’ awkward and bumpy blossoming into an extremely ambitious, driven young man, through his hard work to get highest honors in college, through his on-going battle with stress-induced hypoglycemia, and, especially lately, through his strenuous quest for promotion at work. And the thing is, Fergus is not like Andy. Fergus is not like Andy at all.

During all this time that Andy was standing by him without questions, Fergus has been doubting, worrying neurotically, testing him and, sometimes, pushing him away. He doesn’t have Andy’s happy-go-lucky attitude and his consistent optimism; instead he is prone to mood swings and depression. There’d been a number of times he’d come home well into the night, tripping over Andy’s surf stuff on the floor and cursing, expecting Andy, for once, to at least turn away towards his own side of the bed - or worse – to be gone from it entirely, hell, there were days he hoped Andy would, because that would make him less of a saint – but no, Andy never did. Never. Not once. Instead, he always woke up as if sensing his lover’s presence and every time, silently, opened his arms. And Fergus could be standing around pouting or pacing incessantly to let off some steam, or leisurely taking a shower just for the hell of annoying Andy, but damn, every time Andy was still there, awake and waiting, and every time Fergus came to him and climbed into his arms, every time. And every time, falling asleep secure in Andy’s embrace, he wondered to himself how could he ever allow his thoughts to spiral and whether he could really fathom to live with anything different, whether he could survive it, if things were different, at all… 

When he stands up and walks back over to the tent, it dawns on him that he must have been sitting there for quite a long time because Jesse’s, Nate’s and other tents are set up, but the lads and their girls are nowhere in sight and their camping spot is all quiet. He knows that they must have just gone in for a swim, but that they left him… well, that stings a little. He deserves it, of course, and he knows it, what with how he’s been treating all of them lately, especially Andy for the last couple of weeks, yeah, he really did need a bit of a time out.

Suddenly, a rustle comes from his tent, and Andy, changed into a dark long sleeve shirt and grey khaki shorts, climbs out of it, tossing a paperback aside. By the way he wipes his shirt sleeve over his eyes, Fergus guesses that he must have fallen asleep reading.

“You were… you didn’t go with them?” – Fergus asks gently, barely above a whisper, when Andy finally looks him in the eye.

“Nah… you weren’t here and I… well, I didn’t want to ‘cause I haven’t even asked you how your day went yet and I… just really haven’t seen you much this week I guess…”

He’s so soft and sleepy and Fergus suddenly thinks that damn, it’s Friday and giving surf lessons must be exhausting too. And right now, all Fergus wants is to get out of his work clothes.

“I gotta change” – he says and attempts to climb into their tent when Andy stops him:

“Wait. The… put on a sweater and long pants if you brought them… Because… the… the thing is…”

“You forgot the blankets as well?”

Andy looks down and bows his head, but Fergus just smiles, bringing his hand up to touch Andy’s cheek. ‘No, he’ll never be like me’ – Fergus thinks, - ‘And thank goodness for that.’ Aloud, he says, grabbing his lover’s hands, pulling him closer, and placing them on his own waist:

“Good. I’m glad that you did. It will be a nice excuse to rely on the heat of our bodies tonight.”

And the way Andy smiles, with that soft, yet mischievous and excited smile, as he tilts his head leaning in for a kiss, that makes it all right, all fine and all worth it, and they are not perfect, they never will be, but be it seven years, or ten, or a hundred, they’ll be right where they are, right where they should and want to be, in any corner of the world - but always in each other’s arms.


End file.
